The Mystery of Arthur Kirkland
by LunesWraith
Summary: AU. Alfred visits his brother in a small town in the country, but finds himself in a murder scene, where he finds Arthur Kirkland- holding a knife. The suspect seems clear, but things get complicated and Alfred doesn't know what to believe anymore.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

_**After all it might seem clear**_

_**Rather than it come undone**_

It wasn't the wind that made the cold, but the soft drizzle of rain that fell down on the mountainous terrain. The sky was clouded in a soft grey, and only lone birds made any attempt to venture outside the warmth. Except for the blond head hurrying down the country path, ducking to avoid stray branches that obstructed his progress. The rain softened the mud underfoot, and gave the atmosphere a blurry edge to it, making the whole scene the blond encountered something like a dreary painting that had gathered dust.

It was definitely a depressing town, more of a village really, but still exceptionally remote. To this day, Alfred still couldn't figure out why on earth his brother would choose to hide away in a place like this. Especially when he could have easily lived with or near his brother, but Alfred refused to believe that was why Mathew went so far away. He wasn't overprotective or anything, though he supposed he was quite overbearing at times, but after all he _was_ the louder twin.

He descended the path towards the town, his head covered by his hood against the uncomfortable sheet of soft rain. Pulling out a small scrap of paper, Alfred double checked the address written across it. Twisting his head up, he tried to check the name of the street he was entering, but the letters were scratched and worn and he couldn't make them out. He sighed and realised he'd have to ask for directions, until he noticed there was no one on the streets. He put this down to the weather. After all, it was cold and wet.

Instead he walked until he found a shop with a sign entitled 'Edelstein's Music Store', and decided to enter. A small bell rang, and he pulled his hood down as he entered the dusty shop. It was cramped and pianos were lined up in rows all the way to the back, with acoustic guitars adorning the walls. There was a counter to the right with a small bell, and Alfred immediately rang it, hoping to leave as soon as humanly possible. The air here was especially thick and it almost seemed like the corners of the room darkened and faded away.

After a few seconds, a young man walked briskly out from the door behind the counter to meet him. His dated jacket and clothes perfectly matched the eccentricity of the store, almost as if time had forgotten this man entirely and aged his surroundings rather than his body.

"Can I help you?" He was Austrian.

"Er, oh yeah. I was just looking for this inn my brother owns? I think it's-" He started awkwardly, the man had fixed him with a hostile and searching stare.

"I know. That's at the end of the road, on the left corner. Good day," then abruptly left back through the door with a slam.

Alfred stood there and blinked. "Rude." He muttered. Jeez, he could stand to be a little polite at least. He knew he could be a bit brusque himself, but the hero always is, right?

He left the shop disgruntled, and continued off in the direction the Austrian man had advised. Coming up at the end of the dank road, he pulled his phone out, debating whether or not to warn Matthew he was coming. He knew to expect Alfred roughly this time of the year, but maybe he should have been a bit more specific on the date. The time read 18:36. Alfred decided he should just go in.

The inside of the inn was a lot brighter than the Music store, but still held some of it's eccentricity like the house designs outside. He approached the small front desk, about to ask for his brother when the man seated there raised his head and exclaimed; "Oh! Mattie's brother!" The thick French accent drawled from the smiling man, and his wavy blond hair almost quivered with his enthusiasm.

"Um, right." He was put off again. Was everyone here like that? He wasn't usually so disturbed, but the town had it's own…unique, sort of atmosphere.

"Good, good. Wait right here, I'll be back~!" He sauntered away and ascended the stairs adjacent to the desk, while Alfred took a seat. There was only two chairs, both worn and the fabric frayed. He supposed a small town like this wouldn't have much need for a inn, and Alfred vaguely wondered how Mattie actually made his money here. He stared down at the greying tiles, until the front door opened suddenly, and the Austrian man from before stormed in, apparently livid with anger.

He stopped to look around, perhaps for the French man, and spotted Alfred. It looked like he deliberated speaking with him, but then decided against it and rushed up the steps, shouting "Kirkland! Where are you, Kirkland!"

Alfred had no idea who Kirkland was, but he sincerely hoped the man wasn't here.

Several more minutes passed in silence, with a few shuffling thumps from upstairs. Alfred grew impatient fast, curiosity getting the better of him, until he finally got up and went to look for his brother. A quick glance at the kitchen located downstairs told Alfred that Mathew wasn't there, and he decided he check upstairs. He thudded up the moulded pink carpet, reaching a landing and a corridor. Behind him, doors lined the walls where a walkway went all around the stairs, and it was from the furthest room in the middle where he heard the scream of a young man, then the sound of glass smashing.

Immediately, Alfred ran around the stairs and approached the white painted door. He threw it open without thinking, probably not realising the dangers of approaching the sound of screams, then almost screamed himself.

The scene was horrific.

The window at the far side of the room was broken, which explained the smashing sound, and glass was littered and thrown everywhere. Blood literally plastered the walls, sprayed in random directions and dripping into pools on the carpet and desk. A body was sprawled across the floor, ungracefully lain in it's- _his,_ own blood. The Austrian man; his eyes wide with shock, even in death. It was only then he noticed a blond man standing over the mess, his once neat clothes stained almost entirely red, and a large knife clutched hard in his left hand. His green eyes were wide, and his knuckles white from gripping the weapon so tightly.

Alfred was rooted to the spot. He couldn't move, breathe, think. He knew he should run, but everything in his mind was located right in this room, and he couldn't even begin to persuade himself to move.

The man croaked, "Don't- scream. I wont- I didn't ki-"

A gasp sounded from Alfred's left, and a crash as a tray was dropped. Mathew.

He stuttered, "…Arthur?"

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading.<em>

_My first Hetalia fic, so I really would appreciate your thoughts. It's all human names by the way. I've planned out this fic from start to finish, so updates shouldn't be too sporadic, though I really need to update my other stuff. _

_I really hope you review and tell me if I should continue, as I'm still not really sure._


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

_**There are others you must fear**_

_**He is not the only one**_

The man - Arthur - stands stock still, shock filled eyes swapping between the twins and finally halting on Mattie. Alfred stares and stares, drinking in the sight. Arthur takes a single step back, opens his mouth, and is interrupted.

"Cher! _Mathieu_? You have a visitor downstairs, I think he…said…Arthur?" The French man from downstairs had halted behind them, his ice blue eyes set on the bloodied man with an unreadable expression. His mouth twitched, his breathing suddenly grew erratic and he immediately fled back downstairs. Arthur jumped into life himself, and recklessly jumped through the broken window just as Matthew lunged forward to catch him. Alfred stood there, motionless. What a hero.

Matthew was too late however, and jilted to a sudden stop with his hands slammed to the window frame, and he watched the man disappear from view in the bushes and branches below. Alfred couldn't draw his eyes away from the body despite it making his stomach turn, and tried not to notice the way the wounds were inflicted in straight, parallel lines.

Matthew exhaled sharply, and turned back to Alfred. They locked eyes. The former spoke with a shaky laugh, "Well it's nice to see you Al, eh?"

* * *

><p>"Yes, that is what I said. A big knife, covered in blood, what else am I supposed to say?" Alfred huffed with a frown, not liking the extensive questioning the hard-eyed man was battering him with.<p>

"Any inscription? Width? Length?" The Sheriff of the town, Gilbert Beilschmidt, crossed his arms and sat back against the desk, fixing his eerily red eyes on him. He waited impatiently, tapping his fingers frequently while Alfred struggled to think.

"No idea."

"_Verdammt_, think!" He slams a fist down onto the desk and leans forward to glare directly at Alfred, who in turn leans back, confused and weary with fatigue.

"I don't know, alright? I - I wasn't really paying all that much attention to be honest, I was a little taken back by the whole murder thing, ya know?" He ran his hands through his hair, wishing he could have just found his brother, caught up, then slept for at least 12 hours instead of stumbling across a murder scene and spending the night in the town's pitiful police 'station', in questioning. The station was pretty much a shack with two offices, storage, two cells and a small porch-like area with three mismatched chairs for people to wait. The Sheriff seemed to be the only one there, and had wasted no time arresting him and him only as soon as he got to the hotel.

Alfred had answered honestly, had said everything he thought he should be (he watched enough police and detective programmes, anyway) and still the albino Sheriff wouldn't let him go. What's the deal, seriously?

With more pressing on the knife's details, Arthur's clothing, his expression at the murder, his general state of health and the way he even held himself, the Sheriff collapses into the desk's flaked chair and casts his eyes downwards, as if in serious contemplation. Alfred purses his lips. The man had been doing these dramatic stunts all night, long silences lasting at least a few minutes at random intervals, as if it'll make Alfred suddenly confess something new.

However this time it seemed Gilbert had heard enough, as his head shot up, he brushed himself down and shot Alfred a tired look. "Alright, you've told all you know, you can go."

Alfred wasted only a second to stare vehemently at the sudden announcement before he left the station, red eyes on him the entire way. On his way down the rickety steps of the porch, he bumped into a blond. A French one.

"Oh, _désolé_, I didn't see you there." The man looked haggard, as if he had stayed up the entire night like Alfred had. He looked distracted, and flickered his eyes everywhere but at him, his arm was clutched tightly by the other arm's hand.

"It's fine. Are you alright?" Alfred asked.

The man delayed, then started and looked to him and said "Oh, yes I'm fine, thank you." He grew more confident, and continued "I'm Francis Bonnefoy by the way, the receptionist at the hotel. Though I'm sure you gathered that, non?" He flashed a tired smile, and with a wink he hurried off into the station. Alfred blinked a few times, hating the town and it's difficult populace.

* * *

><p>Back at the hotel, Alfred sat in his brother's room after sidling past faded police tape and the single officer scouting the halls for evidence. He had a friendly face, and even greeted Alfred jovially with a '<em>¡hola, amigo!<em>' and a wave as they passed each other. So much different than his superior at the station. Alfred had cursed his luck for getting the short end of the stick, before bursting through the end door and collapsing into an armchair with cigarette burns. Matthew was still awake too, seated opposite, and had evidently been wringing his hands before Alfred had burst in.

Apparently Arthur had been caught two hours after Alfred was arrested, and had been kept at the station since.

"What? Are you serious? Then why the hell was I questioned the entire freakin' night!" Alfred fumed.

Matthew bit his lip and blew air from his nose. "Well, Gil's pretty thorough, and we can't afford to get a forensics department out here, and as we don't get anything sent to the nearest town for examination, we have to do everything old-school, I guess. They needed a conclusive case."

"Mattie, you can't get more conclusive than getting caught red-handed" Alfred replied, exasperated.

He shrugged in reply, then added "stranger things have happened."

'Not him too' Alfred groaned inwardly. Everyone in the town had that same weird aura about them. His brother must have caught it in the past years he's lived here. He supposed it came with the small community.

Matthew seemed to have noticed Alfred's reaction, because he shook his head and said "Arthur just isn't the type to murder, Al, especially not Roderich. It just doesn't add up."

"Well he seemed pretty pissed at a 'Kirkland' right before he stormed upstairs. I'd say that sounds pretty suspicious, huh?"

Matthew just shook his head slowly and continued to gaze into the distance, lost in thought. Alfred started thinking too. He remembered Arthur's face when he walked in, his scared and lost expression. He had told the Sheriff absolutely everything, and now he couldn't stop thinking about him. He had to agree with Mathew, he really didn't look like the type, he almost looked like he didn't know how he ended up there. He didn't look much older than him either.

Eventually Matthew stood up and got ready for bed. He told Alfred he could use any room down the hall as there weren't any guests, the few they had had left as soon as word of the murder got out. "He'll be killed, you know." Matthew spoke just before he got into bed.

"What?" Alfred said absently, not sure he had heard properly.

"Arthur. It's a small town, we don't have a strict or extensive police force. The rules abide by it. He'll be hanged, there's no electric chair."

Alfred said nothing, and left.

* * *

><p>Later, he lay awake, staring at the green and cream striped walls, thinking. He thought about his impending college work he had left back in the states, about a sweet dark-haired girl who helped him with his Chemistry classes sometimes, about needing to get his side mirror on his car fixed as soon as possible…and he thought about a pale-faced man stuck in a dingy, damp cell, waiting to die.<p>

He wasn't comfortable with the thought. He was all for justice, but murder? It's never right. And what was the reason for killing him anyway? Why would he do it so obviously? He knew it wasn't any of his business, that it didn't really even affect him, but emerald green eyes kept haunting his mind every time his eyes slipped shut. He tossed and turned, and thought about his brother. He had left so suddenly and randomly those years ago, and to a place as remote as this. In the middle of nowhere, in Washington, miles away from him in New York City. He still remembered the argument.

_"What? Washington? What the hell for?"_

_"I have a friend who lives there, he could get me a job easily. Plus, I'd be closer to Vancouver, it'll make it easier to see it once in a while." _

_"But - your home's here! _I'm_ here!"_

_"Al, I'm sorry…"_

Alfred threw his covers off, and got out of bed. He quickly dressed, threw his letterman down in favour of his bomber jacket, and left. He met no one in the hallway, and stopped only briefly to look at the dark mahogany wood door of the murder scene. But before he could descend the stairs, the door opened, and Francis stepped out. When he spotted Alfred he stopped suddenly, mouth slightly ajar. He noticed Francis was also fully dressed, and holding a black bag.

He recuperated, and said "Alfred, I didn't expect to see you up at this hour."

"Yeah, I didn't expect to see you either." He replied. They stared at each other a while, both mouths pressed into thin lines, waiting.

"I could ask what you would be doing sneaking around at this time, and I suppose you could ask the same. I was merely retrieving some of my possessions, I couldn't get them during the day and I didn't want to have to wait until the investigation is over, so…" Francis stopped, and exhaled. "Look, let's just go our separate ways and forget this, yes?" Alfred considered. If he said no, then he'd have to explain his own little night time visit, and he doesn't exactly have a specific reason for it, either. He nodded.

"Good. _Bonne nuit_." Francis smiled and flew downstairs ahead of Alfred, and he heard the distinct sound of a door clicking shut down the hall beside the reception area. His shoes tapped lightly across the tiles, only a single yellowed lamp lighting the dingy atmosphere, giving Alfred a chill. He put thoughts of Francis from his mind and continued making his way out of the Hotel.

The streets were again empty, a crescent moon peeking from between overcast clouds occasionally and a faint sigh of wind every so often. He made his way silently to the shack on the edge of the small town, quickly checking the windows to find Beilschimdt snoring deeply on the desk. He went inside and tiptoed past, holding his breath, heart beating erratically as he turned the handle behind the sleeping man and slipped inside. He met almost pitch black darkness, and waited a few seconds before his eyes adjusted, until he heard a faint rustle. He warily crept forward until the second dimly lit cell came into view, and an outline of a huddled man could be seen.

He stood still. "Arthur?" He said quietly.

The other didn't respond. Alfred wondered why he was here, why he got out of bed to talk to a damned man.

Then, "Alfred, correct?"

He dropped down to his knees to get level with the prisoner, edging forwards to see his face while trying to keep some distance. He made out dishevelled blond hair, and dark eyes. "Yeah that's right, I'm-"

"Matthew's brother. I'm glad I got to meet you." He smiled a tired, sad, kind smile, and Alfred almost felt guilty. "He's told me a lot about you", he went on, "I'm sorry you had to come at such an…unfortunate time." He gave a small humourless laugh and rested his head against the wall again, then closed his eyes.

Alfred tried not to feel pity. He had _seen_ him, covered in blood! But then, if he really thought he was completely guilty, would he be here now?

"What happened? Did you…"

"No, I didn't, but I don't expect you to believe me. I understand how it looks." Arthur gave another sad smile, and Alfred's heart clenched. "Why are you here anyway?" He gave Alfred a curious look, noting his hazardously dressed state.

Alfred went to speak, faltered, then tried again, "I guess, I wanna know what happened." He paused when Arthur raised a sceptical brow and didn't reply. "I guess I can't stand injustice, Mattie always said I had a 'hero complex' or something but… I want to help you."

Arthur looked at him, confused eyes switching it's gaze between Alfred's with something kindling in them like desperation. He finally said, "Alright. I'll tell you what happened."

* * *

><p><strong>It's been almost a year, and I have too many excuses for it. It's only been one chapter though so it's not so bad as some of my other abandoned fics. I know Capital Punishment is pretty rare out there but as it's an unchecked town, literally under the radar, I hope my innacuracies can be overlooked ^.^<strong>

**Review to let me know how it's going, the flow, ideas etc. it'll help me make decisions as to how this pans out as while I have my main ideas, a lot is still ambiguous.**


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